How Soon Is Now: I No Longer Care About the Draft, I Care About the Present

The NFL Draft was held in Dallas over the weekend at AT&T Stadium, also known as “Jerry World” or “The 9th Circle of Hell” or “The Epitome of Capitalistic Excess.” Much like Jerry Jones’ Cowboys teams of the 21st century and the American economic machine, the NFL Draft looked completely half-assed this year, standing in stark contrast to the bonanza that occurred when the draft was held in Philadelphia last April. There was no energy, no pizzazz in Texas. The raucous crowds and atmosphere from Philly were gone, replaced with a dead scene in Texas as the NFL tried to appease the hissy fit ol’ Jerry certainly threw when he saw the responses to Philadelphia hosting the draft in 2017. Just look at the crowd differences:

The mobs of people who filled the draft in Philly last year were fantastic. They illustrated the authentic passion this city oozes for its sports teams without having any bullshit claims about Santa and/or snow balls come up. I, along with most other Eagles fans, were pissed when I heard the draft wouldn’t be returning to Philly. It was a hell of an experience being at the center of the football world for a moment.

I dicked around the NFL Draft Experience at the Art Museum for a couple of hours before last year’s draft started with my friends. I cringed and chirped at every Cowboys fan I saw and enjoyed the refreshingly warm April weather in Philly. It was the perfect midpoint between the city’s typically rainy winters and brutally humid summers. Given that I didn’t want to continue paying $15 for a can of Bud Light, my friends and I left there to ahead to a bar early in the evening.

I sat in Cavanaugh’s Headhouse for the actual draft itself. I was wearing a shirt that said “I DRINK AT THE LINC” on it with a non-trademarked eagle logo below that text. I was not at The Linc, but I was ready to drink and be disappointed by whatever the Eagles were going to do just as if I was in the top level of Lincoln Financial Field on a cold Sunday afternoon.

The Eagles had the 14th pick in the 2017 draft courtesy of the Minnesota Vikings as a result of the utterly hilarious Sam Bradford trade back in September 2016. My buddy Mike Leitner and I were pouring over players’ stats and measurables leading up to the Eagles’ selection. Would they get defensive lineman Jonathan Allen from Alabama? How about one of his other Crimson Tide teammates, either cornerback Marlon Humphrey or tight end O.J. Howard? We were also enamored with Tennessee defensive end Derek Barnett, who had broken the Tennessee career sacks record previously held by Eagles legend and Hall of Famer Reggie White in just three seasons. We envisioned, as we always did after a half-dozen drinks, how this guy could lead the Eagles to a Super Bowl victory one day.

My hope was that given Carson Wentz’s promising rookie season and long-term potential, the Eagles wouldn’t be picking this high in the draft again for at least another decade. Go grab a premium edge rusher to lead the future of the defense just as Wentz would do on the opposite side of the ball. The Eagles’ did indeed use the Vikings’ pick to draft Barnett, who, in a case of dramatic irony ripped straight from a Shakespearean work, had a strip sack against Vikings quarterback Case Keenum in the Birds’ NFC Championship Game win while Bradford stood uselessly on the sideline. A lot changed in Philly in one year.

Just look across 10th Street down at the Sports Complex at the city’s basketball team. Each Sixers draft for the last half-decade was the season while the regular season games felt trite and meaningless in a Process world. Who gives a shit about how Phil Pressey is running the pick-and-roll with Christian Wood? Give me highlights of Ben Simmons going coast-to-coast at LSU. Give me clips of Joel Embiid shooting three-pointers during warm-ups of games he wouldn’t even play in. Give me the future! I had an online Turkish TV subscription for two years to watch Dario Saric play for Anadolu Efes for Christ’s sake.

I couldn’t be bothered with the present for years in Philly sports because the present represented either eternal disappointment or irrelevance depending on which of my two favorite teams you were discussing. The Sixers’ on-court play was worthless, as they tanked in the hopes of striking gold in the NBA Draft, necessitating Sixers fans’ reasoning for becoming amateur basketball scouts for the last handful of years. Watching the Eagles my entire life felt like getting stabbed with a rusty knife repeatedly and somehow continuing to come back for more. The draft was a way to construct a team that would get over the hump and finally deliver the city the Super Bowl win it so desperately needed.

Over the last year though, those two things, the two things I had been wishing for so dearly for what feels like forever, actually happened. The Sixers now have two franchise-altering, two-way superstars in Joel Embiid and Ben Simmons with the best wild card third star this city’s seen since Charlie Kelly in Dario Saric. They’ve won 20 of their last 21 games. They’re about to stomp the crap out of the Boston Celtics in the Eastern Conference Semifinals. I dreamed of this happening for years and I’m having a little trouble processing it now that it’s actually here.

And the Eagles…

Well, the Eagles won the fucking Super Bowl. Derek Barnett, that guy I was drunkenly claiming would help lead the Eagles to the Super Bowl one day back in April 2017, made a game-sealing fumble recovery in the fourth quarter against Tom Brady and the New England Patriots to win the biggest game in Philadelphia’s history.

Now that the Eagles have won it all, I didn’t really care about the draft over the weekend. I familiarized with some players that the Eagles could potentially draft leading up to their selections, but I certainly didn’t pour over the scouting reports of the top college prospects like I would in years past. No one cares about new high-tech mountain-climbing gear if you just reached the summit of Mount Everest. The fun of it is gone, but I don’t miss it.

The same goes with the Sixers. April and May were typically times for Sixers fans to go into hardcore draft mode because of the Sixers’ ensuing top-three pick in the draft, but that time has passed. I’m more worried about making the NBA Finals (still feels weird to type) than the Sixers’ ping pong lottery combinations. As I get older and no longer have the time to be the hoops junkie I was when I was in high school and college, only needing to watch the team itself, a great team contending for a Finals berth at that, makes leaving my draft “expert” days behind that much easier. Sure, the Sixers will have the Lakers’ lottery pick this year and could land a good player who might help the team achieve its championship goals over the next few seasons, but with multiple stars already in place and loads of cap space to blow over the next two summers, I’m going to enjoy being a fan of a successful NBA franchise for as long as I can.

Mike and I finished watching the first round of the draft last year and enjoyed a few more rounds of drinks before heading home. We shot the shit about all the crazy things we’d do when the Eagles win the Super Bowl (I don’t think recreating a famous WWII-era photo was among them), high off the hopes and promises that the draft dishes out in ample supply. As we hopped out of our Uber to go our separate ways back in South Philly, I looked at him while drunkenly laughing because I had a half-serious, half-joking thought.

“Imagine how much more fun the draft will be next year when we have the 32nd pick.”